Secret Agents of Chaos

We were born unto a golden age
When favor endowed us, fine,
Though circumstances proffered
Their problems as they brew
We were capable, and we grew.
I was voracious and leaning unstable
But the mark of it was feathered
Light, invisible at most edges, slight,
You were scrappy, yet saccharine,
Neat, a contumacious pleasure
Forever brooding, outside bounds.
Along divided pathways, we wended,
You much needing, I stymied, not
Succeeding as would, I could;
Devastated for the missing
Unknown, the X and Y of who
We designated, risk-related were.
Somehow the lawful order
Separated, gradually disintegrated,
Brokedown in some unmapped region,
The secret of hearts, with chosen
Souls, a love time destined to
Seek and find what others claimed
Us as belonged, with finite reason.
We bloomed like dandelions
Secret Agents of Chaos thrust savage
Into the world of mendacity
Set together free though love was
Ours to linger only temporarily.

Epitome

How did it happen,
How did everything transform,
A strain of music,
A melody overheard
In the sparkle of your eyes?
You were a picture
Extravagantly admired
Shimmering starlight,
Two pair of eyes, then, we met,
Suddenly blazing desire.
An ozone shedding storm
A fierce current between hearts
Thrived until we merged,
A heavenly symphony –
Love, we were both and befell.
Our together is
A portion, given delirious, free,
Pleasant abundance
Outside all expectation
Gorgeous truth, mystery.

Symbios

People have entered
Relationships simply to
Learn who someone is,
Because understanding this
Tells us depths about ourselves.
We, everyone, has
A fascination, hidden
Beyond our insight
We harken to the others
To illustrate life in us.
We feed our need on
All the ones invited to
Circle, they on us,
We require much love given
Also, share utmost,
A mirror clouded metal
Reflecting and enlightening.
Love we are and become
Our closest ones we allow to be
Who we are, who they see,
Knowing us all empathy.

Attempt At Why

Where the words come from
The space that births each piece
Hallowed heart healed soul
Running warm as bold passion,
Cold uncovered Winter lands
The catch of a cough, hard,
Smooth tones of a close melody
Sung by a Spring roused dove,
Careful magic, Handwritten,
Secrets all given nearly away.
Yet, few discern how, what,
Is seen through such window,
As the aquamarine and white
Delicate lace curtains breezing,
Pull revealingly, appealingly
Aside, for puzzlement dominates,
But a writer may invite
With effort, join the reader
Such that minds meet, release
Lofty innovations, wild free thoughts,
So essence transmits, is caught.
However, the life of words
Is tied to a far foreign shore
Where there are difficulties
With innocence of travel
In the trouble of this technical
Ridden, cynically inclined time.

Sometime After 12 AM

Sitting, covered by blankets,
Quilts, holding the chill at bay,
A pillow propping me almost,
Upright, with a journal carefully
Placed to catch the wily words
My handmade pen traces from
The interiors of mind’s gray matter
Planted like nourishing fruits,
Vegetables, ripening over time.
Books, pens, tablets, all close to
Hand for change in operation
Should some desperate need
Apply beyond the sweet tones
Broadcast through the speaker
Streaming what bathes me
In warmth, pleasure, peace,
Easing the shake that sometimes
Turns capable hands used to
Calming others into erratically
Fluttering light imprisoned moth
Wings beating away life’s color.